


Courting

by PumpkinWhatPumpkin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/M, For once it's the lady who sees what she wants and goes for it, LOTR, Lord of the Rings, Orc Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinWhatPumpkin/pseuds/PumpkinWhatPumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief look into the creepy world of a she-Orc who becomes enamoured with a he-Elf, and her following pursuit of him.</p><p>Currently a one-shot but I may consider adding further chapters in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting

The cold luminescence of the moon offered but meager light by which to carve a path through the thick, gnarled trunks of the trees in the deep wood. The frosted air cut sharp like a knife against the skin, the ground soft and pliable beneath the armoured feet of the intruder. Her breath hit the air in clouds, quickly swept behind and out of existence.  
The thrill of the hunt consumed her consciousness, the scent of her prey entering her nostrils and sweeping through her lungs with every breath, igniting the she-Orc's lust for battle.

The light was dim but her wild yellow eyes were keen, the scents and sounds of the forest lighting her path where her eyes may have failed. An elf was near.  
With a mighty leap she gripped a twisted branch, soundlessly hauling herself up and backing against the trunk, melding into the shadows just as the faintest of rustles below alerted her of her prey.  
Her mouth watered at the warm smell of the elf- its beating heart and hers serving as the war drums preceding the battle. The clash of steel upon steel, the airy thwack of a bow loosening an arrow, she could hear it already.. Gripping her wicked mace tightly, her pupils dilated as the elf leapt into the clearing below, stringing an arrow to its bow..

His bow. It was a he-Elf. A swatch of moonlight through the leaves above bathed him in patchy smatters of a gentle glow, but it was quickly replaced by shadow as he stepped back, arrow drawn and ready to fly.  
She watched him, intensely captivated by the way his long hair swayed as he moved, catching the light as if each pale strand was painted in iridescent mithril. His scent, so earthy but fragrant in a way that tempted her to take a lick, just to savor the taste of that smell. And his grace, such an elegant creature. Like a proud stag, boldly approaching the hunter, fearless. Young and resplendent.. A prize.  
A prize to be won- that she would win. Through battle.

Her eyes narrowed into golden slits as she waited patiently for her prey to move closer, the eager glitter in them shadowed beneath her brow, pupils small but growing rapidly. Then her eyes snapped wide- and she leapt.

Her mace struck dirt as her feet connected with the ground heavily, the force of her landing making her grunt, armour clanking. From her crouched position she lunged toward the elf that had evaded her, snarling, baring as many of her sharp, stained teeth as possible. Her thoughts grew quick, segmented from moment to moment as the battle began, every fibre of her being alight with a burning hunger for a fight.

The elf leapt back, startled but aware, his blue eyes wide and pupils dilated as well. The she-Orc took a moment to savour this as she charged him, slamming an open hand into his chest just as he let his arrow fly. The arrow whistled past her ear, nicking it but doing no lasting damage. She pulled back, swinging her mace with great force and the elf dodged a second time, ducking low and leaping out of her arm range as the spike-ridden tip smashed through the bark of the tree behind him. She then drew her shield from its place on her back. The elf drew back across the small clearing in total silence, reaching for another arrow..  
But she was unwilling to play that game anymore, even as gorgeous as he looked with an arrow drawn and the will to survive glittering in his eyes.

No, she wanted him to draw his sword, to feel eachother's power resonating through their weapons with every swing and every clang of cold metal upon metal. To grapple and tumble like animals fighting for territory, for dominance. To see how he would move in close combat- to feel his grace firsthand, to test his power and attempt to best him. He looked as though he would shatter as glass if she so much as struck him. A creature of light and finery the likes of which she would never attain.  
She wanted to break him into a million pieces. How satisfying it would be to twist and hold him, to run her claws along flawless skin and hear him cry out. But not yet- no, the cold, hard look on the elf's features as he loosed his arrow spoke very clearly. 

First, she would have to earn it.


End file.
